Anything for a laugh
by Madcat-88
Summary: Pre-G1. Some days it just doesn't pay to be a nice guy.


Anything for a laugh  
  
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"Think he's gonna do it?"  
  
"Who cares?"  
  
"Who's he anyway?"  
  
The speakers, three empties, were part of the crowd that was forming around a semi-ruined building on the edge of one of the great pits that scarred Cybertron's surface. Craning their heads up and shielding optics from the acidic rain they could see the transformer standing high above them; leaning against the wind and pacing along a girder, occasionally stopping to stare into the pit. The crowd hissed in anticipation as the figure wobbled and almost fell before catching his balance.  
  
"I heard he flew in."  
  
"That makes him a 'con right?"  
  
"Good riddance if the slagger does it."  
  
A chant of "Jump! Jump! Jump!" started to echo through the mob as the information and accompanying sentiment spread. It faded as another transformer pushed through to the front. Unlike the empties surrounding him, Highlift was well maintained and armed. A bulky Autobot in the traditional warm tones of that faction, his alt-mode looked to be a construction vehicle of some type.   
  
Speaking slowly and deliberately, giving the impression that a lot of thought had gone into each word, Highlift asked, "What's going on?" He had a fair idea already, but it never hurt to speak to the empties.   
  
A half scrapped, somewhat rat-like green robot eventually answered, "Slagging con's gonna jump ain't he? Shame he's gonna fall down there rather than here - could do with the spares. Waste o' good metal if you ask me."  
  
Highlift pondered this answer. A Decepticon about to scrap himself? Why? And why hadn't he done it already? Decepticons weren't known for hesitation. But then, this was a life-changing decision; a little thought was probably called for. Though he was a flyer, so he'd be able to change his mind on the way down. Puzzling.  
  
Walking to the edge of the pit, Highlift shone a headlamp into the depths: the light faded before the floor was visible. Peering up at the Decepticon, he decided that the 'con didn't really want to jump; there were more efficient and less dramatic ways to end his existance if he was serious, though there was certainly some truth in the joke: 'How many Decepticons does it take to change a headlight?'   
  
"Has anyone tried to speak to him?"  
  
Indifferent glances around and shrugs were the only reply until green and rat-like spoke up again, "Wot? Climb up there? He's a con - they're all bonkers. Probably shoot anyone who got close."  
  
"Radio then?"  
  
This time there were a few unpleasant laughs from the gathered empties, "You think any of us has a working radio, or the energy to waste?" Highlift sighed and tried a few of the known Decepticon frequencies, then a general communication one. There was no response. Nothing else for it then, he thought, studying the structure that towered above him.   
  
Servomotors whined and his back mounted grapple gun raised over his shoulders and fired.  
  
Having tested the grip of the line, Highlift started to winch himself up, painfully aware of the easy target he was making of himself. An opinion shared by the empties below.  
  
"I reckon the 'con's gonna shoot him."  
  
"Nah... He'll fly off."  
  
"Then shoot him."  
  
"Lousy 'cons."  
  
Two breems later, one ascent away from the girder where the Decepticon paced, Highlift paused to think about what he was going to say. Stopping the Decepticon from attacking would be a good start. Then what? Find out what his problem is, then...? Highlift didn't have the authority to offer him a place as an Autobot. He aimed the grapple gun for the last time and decided that he'd cross that bridge if it became an issue.  
  
Clambering noisily onto the beam, Highlift looked around. Below him spread the ruins of Tarn, northwards, he could see the walls of Polyhex and the glow of the smelting pits, visible even through the rain and smog, and, at the far end of the beam, the Decepticon. A black seeker with purple highlights, one arm out for balance, the other aimed at Highlift.  
  
"Back off Autobot. This is my ledge," the seeker sounded angry, almost feral.   
  
Highlift took a few moments to study him before speaking. Most noticeable were the lack of faction markings on his wings, and the field repairs. A neutral then. But you couldn't repair yourself that neatly. So were there another one or two about? Or had the rest of his wing been shot down? They said that seekers went mad on their own. Doing his best to ignore the laser pointed at his head, Highlift said, "I'm here to talk."  
  
"Talk? You climbed up here to talk?" The seeker sounded incredulous.  
  
"The empties think you're going to jump." Highlift mentally amended that to: were calling for you to jump.  
  
Lowering his aim slightly the seeker said, "Were they?" His glance shifted downwards, expression full of scorn, "Cannibals." Then, turning his attention back to Highlift, he continued, "You came up here to talk, right? So... gonna try and stop me?"  
  
"That was my plan. I don't know why you're not with the Decepticons, but this can't be the answer. What happened?"  
  
"This happened." The seeker gestured out over the desolation surrounding them, "The one-breem war." His optics brightened in anger, "Shockwave and Starscream."   
  
Highlift nodded: that made sense. The one-breem war had affected a lot of transformers. The lucky ones found a place with one of the factions; the unlucky were gathered at the base of the tower, watching.  
  
His tone bitter now, "The Decepticons took all I had, and the Autobots have nothing for me." With that, the seeker threw himself off the ledge. Reacting on instinct, Highlift leapt, managing to grab an arm.   
  
Milliseconds later, the cable anchoring Highlift to the building snapped taut, there was a wrench of tearing metal from his back, and a creak from the building in protest at the sudden strain, but everything: cable; Highlift; building - held. They swung there for a moment, seeker and Autobot, then slowly, very slowly, Highlift started to winch them back up.  
  
"You...." The sentence died as he took in the expression on the seeker's face. The beginnings of a smile.   
  
"I...?" The smile was broadening as the seeker sighted along his free arm, past Highlift.  
  
Realisation dawned, "Oh no..."  
  
"Oh yes..." Grinning now, the seeker fired. For a moment, everything seemed to stop, and then they were falling.   
  
"You're going to kill us both!"   
  
There was no answer from the seeker for long seconds, then his grin twisted into a smirk, and with a call of "Happy landing!" and a flash of purple light he was gone.   
  
Highlift continued to fall.  
  
On the ground the empties briefly discussed this turn of events, before shrugging and dismissing it as just another sign of the madness that afflicted Cybertron.  
  
High above them, the black seeker was joined by a blue. Taking position on blue's wing, black said, "Well, I thought it was funny."  
  
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Author's notes  
  
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This is set in the interim between 'State games' and the third Cybertronian war kicking off. The phrase 'one breem war' refers to the firing of the proton missiles that levelled both Tarn and Vos.  
  
In terms of the chronology of my stories this takes place before Proving grounds (Working title, story still in concept) and Karma/Lost.  
  
The seekers are Skywarp and Thundercracker, left un-named, because like Lost, this is a victim's eye view, and Highlift doesn't know who they are.  
  
Yes, there will be techspecs for my poor one-shot neutrals. 


End file.
